


Static Wingman

by Graysongirl



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust-Typical Sexual Content (Hazbin Hotel), Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Relationship, Bottom Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Demon Deals, Hoodoo, Inspired by Cyrano de Bergerac, M/M, Secret Crush, Soft Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Top Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), Unrequited Crush, You will feel sorry for Vox, radiodust - Freeform, staticmoth, staticradio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29886339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graysongirl/pseuds/Graysongirl
Summary: A spur of the moment deal throws Vox and Alastor together in a plot to win the heart of the porn star Angel Dust. In the spirit of Cyrano de Bergerac Vox comes up with a plan to feed lines to Alastor so that the completely hopeless in romance Radio Demon can secure his beau.
Relationships: Alastor & Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Valentino/Vox (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 64





	1. Let's make a deal

Vox had never been good at running.

As he flung himself around a corner, back pressed against the wall, his breath was laboured with the effort. If he could still sweat he was sure he’d be completely drenched by now. As it was, the only sign he was over heating was the sound of the fan in his chest whirring faster than normal. Bringing his hand up to his collar he loosened his bowtie before setting off once more at a run. 

This categorically was not supposed to be happening, he thought dryly to himself rounding another corner and finding himself shrouded in darkness. 

“Shit,” he cursed softly, reaching out and feeling the wall next to him. There wasn’t a jot of electrical current running through these buildings, nothing even as powerful as a battery was calling out to him. He’d kill his own mother for anything that ran on electricity right now. He could see the shadows around him slithering closer, writing unnaturally as they were controlled by their master. One grazed the leg of his suit pants, signalling to him that his time right now would be better spent running rather than lamenting the lack of modern technology in this district. 

The Pridelands, home of King Lucifer and Queen Lilith themselves, was a hotbed of magical power. Fuelled by the very fires of Hell that Pentagram City rested over, the Pridelands were set apart from the rest of the pentagram shaped network of streets that housed the other districts. The eye wateringly beautiful palace sat proudly at the centre of the isolated district, surrounded by guard accommodation and a barracks which trained the royal soldiers. Some of the beings of Hell that were granted permission from the Royal family also had residence in the Pridelands, the extension of an invitation to even visit the district was a high honour indeed, being asked to live there was akin to being asked to join the Royals. 

That wasn’t exactly what Vox had been trying to do. Whilst Lucifer claimed ownership of the Pridelands there was an unofficial rule that if you were powerful enough to claim some land there then you were free to do with it as you pleased. It was sort of a funny little joke on the King’s part because actually claiming territory in the coveted Pridelands was nearly impossible. Once you had it, keeping control of it from other power hungry Overlords was another question entirely. Vox owned all of the Envy District and, thanks to his partnership with Valentino, a sizeable chunk of the Lust District as well. He’d been trying to creep into the Greed and Gluttony Districts over the past few decades with varied success. The Radio Demon was incredibly protective of the districts he claimed ownership of it and it seemed that, just like Vox, he now had his sights set on a place at Lucifer’s side. 

Vox hated to look like the weaker party, running away from a fight was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. He had an enviable reputation in Hell as controller of the media and one third of the infamous Triple V gang. If someone saw him running through the backstreets of the Pridelands panting like a boot camp reject he was absolutely done for, social suicide of the highest order. It was a good thing he controlled every news outlet in Hell. 

Well, nearly every news outlet in Hell. 

Not that he’d been letting himself forget about the demon that was currently chasing him but that thought did bring his mind racing back to Alastor. The radio demon could utterly destroy him and broadcast it to all of Hell. He wasn’t sure what was worse, being beaten or everyone knowing about it. 

_”Run rabbit, run rabbit… run, run run,”_

Turning another corner Vox once again tried to reach out for any whisper of electricity that he could find. Did this whole district run on Hell magic? He wondered in frustration. Apparently so because he was still no closer to finding a lick of help. 

_”Don’t give the farmer his fun, fun, fun… he’ll get by without his demon pie…”_

“Shut up!” Vox shouted into the darkness, shooting a spark from his hand down towards a creeping shadow that was threatening to reach out and snare him. The small burst of power was enough to make the creature wary of coming any closer and he took that as his opportunity to vault over a low wall and into a more open space. It appeared to be some kind of garden close to the palace. Whatever it was, there were no high buildings around it casting long shadows so that was a win in his book. Clenching his fists tightly he summoned up some of the energy that resided inside him and lit his hands up with pulsing blue sparks. 

“Come out and face me properly, coward!” He yelled into the void. 

A smirk crept onto his screen as Alastor stepped out of a shadow cast by the wall he had jumped over. The Radio Demon looked as poised and collected as ever, his hands loosely clasped behind him as he stepped calmly across the grassy ground towards his opponent. 

“Are you quite alright, old chum?” The deer smiled. “You appeared quite out of breath earlier. Perhaps you’d like a five minute interlude? I can wait.” 

“I’m fine,” Vox snarled, hurling a fistful of glowing energy at Alastor. The demon simply side stepped the attack and brushed some imaginary lint from his cuff, his eyes gleaming with hunger. 

“Come now, surely you can do better than that?” Alastor smiled, summoning his microphone into his grasp and starting to twirl it round. “Are you telling me that you don’t have anything more than your little parlour tricks to fight me with? I expected better from you.” The microphone gathered speed in his hand, summoning a swirling mass of the same shadows that had been chasing Vox earlier. Alastor’s limbs cracked unnaturally as he rose up, carried by the creature he was summoning. “Perhaps you are at a loss without your little wire toys to aid you.” 

“Don’t worry about me, I’ve got plenty,” Vox promised him, standing his ground as the demon approached and throwing the full force of the energy he had summoned towards the inky black mass. It had very little effect, the bright fizzes of electricity that he could pull from inside of himself barely making a dent in whatever it was Alastor had been able to summon. 

“It seems not,” Alastor grinned. The ground beneath Vox began to crack and splinter, twisted black creatures seeping out through the cracks and gripping Vox by the ankles. “This is why I despair of the younger demons. All so fixated on their screens and devices… no respect for the old ways.” The crack beneath Vox grew, splitting the ground beneath his feet. The media demon stumbled, ironically held steady by the tentacles gripping him around the legs, snaking up higher until they tightened around his thighs. 

“Kinky,” Vox smirked, trying to avoid looking down. A bright orange glow was emitting from the crack in the ground, a rush of heat tickling him as it widened. 

Just as he predicted, the comment was enough to distract the radio demon for a second. A flicker of disgust clouded Alastor’s usually unrelenting grin, the tentacles receding a little and loosening their hold on his prey. Vox seized the moment to fire another spark down towards them, the burn enough to make them lose their grip entirely. He braced himself as he felt himself fall towards the ground. 

The ground that wasn’t there anymore. 

With an uncharacteristic shriek of shock as he fell, Vox threw his hands out, breathing a shaky sigh of relief as his fingertips gripped the edge of the fractured terrain. He dug his gloved hands into the edge, his claws tearing through the leather as he dug them in to increase his hold. 

“Well, well, this is a predicament isn’t it?” Alastor smiled like he was commenting on the weather. He leant forward so that he was looking down on Vox, his teeth gleaming in the glow that radiated from beneath them both. “I don’t know why you thought you had a chance at claiming territory here,” he commented pleasantly. “An admirable effort to be sure, but a pathetic creature like you with no understanding of the magic that fuels our little underground kingdom never had a chance. A pity… you were such an interesting adversary.” The tip of his shoe rested on one of Vox’s hands, pressing down on him where he was clinging for dear life. “Oh well, it can’t be helped.” He increased the pressure on Vox’s hand, grinning maliciously as the demon beneath him fought to keep his grip. 

“Don’t let me fall!” Vox gasped. The hand that wasn’t being stepped on lost its grip, sending his body dropping sharply to one side. Alastor heard a popping sound like flesh tearing, the look of pain crossing over Vox’s face was one he knew he would treasure for a long time. 

“Hm?” Alastor hummed. “I don’t think I could quite hear you over the bubbling Hellfire beneath you. Do speak up, my friend.” 

“Don’t let me fall!” Vox repeated, louder this time. He scrambled to try and reclaim his grip with his free hand, fingers digging into the scaling hot earth and failing to make purchase. 

“Manners cost nothing,” Alastor reminded him calmly, inspecting his nails as he spoke and resting his microphone staff on the ground. Vox mumbled something incoherent and Alastor crouched down, closing the gap between them more. “Sorry? You’ll have to speak clearly, the mic can’t pick it up if you mumble, dear,” he explained like a director giving notes to an unseasoned performer. “Enunciate.” 

“Please let me up,” Vox growled in exasperation, closing his eyes. A flare of pink flickered over his screen and Alastor could swear it was a blush. His grin widened. 

“Why should I?” He asked, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “If I let you fall then you are out of my hair for a considerable amount of time, probably forever if what I understand about Hellfire being as lethal as an angel’s blade is true.”

“If you let me up I can help you get what you want.” Vox opened his eyes, staring up at the demon that quite literally was holding his life right now. 

“Ha! And what could you possibly offer me that I can’t get myself?” Alastor laughed. 

“Angel Dust.” 

The world seemed to slow down around them, the only sound audible in the tense silence a low hum of static as the Radio Demon’s eyes narrowed practically to slits. He gripped the staff tighter in his hand, doubling down on the pressure on Vox’s hand with the flat of his boot. His lifeline. 

“What?” He asked, the buzz of feedback almost covering the word entirely. 

“Angel Dust,” Vox repeated. “I can get him for you.” 

“What makes you think I’m interested in a degenerate porn star?” Alastor snorted. “If I wanted my fill of prostitutes I would simply take a walk through the stained streets of that disgusting district your loathsome paramour calls home.” 

“I’m not blind,” Vox insisted, putting in all his chips and praying his gamble payed off. “I watch you. All the time. You’re always out at the time Angel Dust’s shift finishes and I can see your shadows following him back to that hotel.” 

“And? That means nothing,” Alastor said calmly. “I have a vested interest in the hotel, it would be foolish of me to allow harm to come to its only resident.” 

“Fine,” Vox pushed on with a last ditch attempt. “Tell me I’m wrong, but trust me when I say I can get that spider eating out of the palm of your hand.”

Alastor paused, the radio static still buzzing around him as he considered Vox’s words. The media demon spent most of the time that he wasn’t lording over Pentagram City via one of his insufferable TV shows at the porn studio and club that Angel worked at so it did make sense that he was at least passingly acquainted with him. His lover, the moth demon Valentino, also seemed close to the spider demon. 

“Say you were… correct,” Alastor said slowly. “What would you expect in return?” 

“Let me up from here and relinquish your claim on this district,” Vox gambled, feeling his fingers starting to slide despite Alastor still standing on them. They’d been talking too long, he was slipping. He could feel the chunk of earth he was holding valiantly onto start to crumble from the combination of his tight grip and Alastor’s boot bearing down on it. 

Alastor leaned in closer, holding his hand out for Vox to take. 

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we are with another fic! Leave a review and let me know your thoughts. I'm a hopeless theatre nerd and love the story of Cyrano and Roxanne, though this might not pan out quite the way that the classic tale does! 
> 
> Follow me on twitter @graysongirl4 for sneak peeks of chapters before they drop and a lot of Vox simping.


	2. Seduction 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor and Vox discuss the parameters of their deal, leaving the media demon convinced that it's a walk in the park on his part. Especially when he realises just how well the deal benefits him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and reviews this chapter! I hope I continue to delight.   
> Small NSFW at the end of this chapter.

Alastor’s hand was searing hot as Vox clasped it tight. Quick as a flash the fiery cavern beneath him closed up, the ground returning to the pleasant country garden it had been moments ago. Vox straightened himself up, finding the demon opposite him still gripping his hand like a vice. Wisps of green light surrounded by a collection of eldritch symbols and binary code wrapped themselves around the pair’s hands, spiralling in closer and closer until they eventually tied tightly around them. 

The light disappeared in a blink, freeing the pair instantly. Vox drew his hand away and stared down at his palm, expecting to find burns or even some kind of brand on his rubbery skin. There was nothing there save for a tingling sensation like pins and needles. He clenched his fist tight and looked at Alastor, angry confusion lighting up his screen. 

“What the fuck was that?” He demanded. 

“Surely you have made a deal before?” Alastor asked innocently, straightening out his cuffs and clasping his hands together. The microphone had vanished back to wherever the Hell it went when the demon wasn’t using it. 

“You tricked me,” Vox said accusingly. 

“Not at all, my dear friend!” Alastor chuckled. “No trickery whatsoever. You hold up your end of the bargain and I’ll hold up mine. You did not fall did you? Nor am I continuing to harass you for this precious slice of territory. All clean as a whistle and above board.” 

“You… fuck!” Vox kicked at clump of grass, making a divot in the otherwise pristine lawn. How could he be so stupid? Lesson one of Hell, don’t make deals with Overlords. Lesson two of Hell, definitely don’t make deals with one particular Overlord. 

“Now now, no need for tantrums,” Alastor chided lightly. “You’re ruining your perfectly lovely territory.” 

Vox hadn’t even noticed up until now, but the beautiful ornamental garden they were standing in was probably the greenest part of all Hell. Carefully tended apple trees grew in neat rows, surrounded by delicately arranged beds of flowers and orderly paths, he could even hear birds singing- actually singing, not squawking and cawing like the carrion birds that stalked you in the Wastelands. It was like stepping out of the grim underbelly of Pentagram City and straight into Eden. 

“You’re really relinquishing your claim on all of this?” Vox asked suspiciously, suddenly unable to take his eyes off of the entrancing sight. 

“I said I would, did I not?” Alastor reminded him, making his way over to a conveniently placed bench on the end of a pebble dashed path. He patted the space next to him and folded his hands on his lap. “That is, of course, if you hold up your end of the deal. If you do not then I will take great pleasure in reacquainting you with what lies beneath this charming patch of pseudo-Heaven and claiming it for myself.” 

“And my end of the deal is what, exactly?” Vox asked, folding his arms and ignoring the offered seat. You didn’t just casually sit down and admired the scenery with the Radio Demon. “Angel Dust?” 

“Precisely,” Alastor confirmed, his smile widening.

“Fuck, marry or kill?” Vox asked bluntly. “I don’t particularly care which, it would just probably help to know upfront.” 

“Do sit down, man, you’re making the place look dreadfully untidy just standing there,” Alastor sighed, clicking his tongue in distain. Vox rolled his eyes, but complied, earning a small nod of approval from the deer who turned to face him as he continued speaking. “Now, you’ll have to put that in plainer terms, I am not familiar with whatever passes as slang these days.” 

“Sweet Lucifer…” Vox sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you for real? What do you _want_ Angel Dust for? Do you want to screw him, kill him or cuddle him and pretend he’s your boyfriend?” 

“I do not wish to end his existence,” Alastor told him. “Nor do I wish to, how did you put it, ‘screw’ him.” His nose wrinkled slightly in disgust and Vox noticed a very minute shudder at the prospect. “I also do not cuddle. I simply want to…” he trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words for what Vox was certain must be the first time ever. 

“Date him?” Vox snorted, filling in the gaps for him. “Pal, I’d have had an easier time believing you wanted to chop him up and eat him. Sure I can get you a date with Angel Dust. I think dinner and good fuck afterwards is about $500. I can probably haggle with Val and get you a discount though if you want.” 

“You misunderstand me,” Alastor interrupted, holding his hand up for silence. “I do not want to procure his services as a customer. I wish to-“ he waved a hand as he searched for the correct term “-woo him and court him.” 

“Sorry, what, my speakers must be playing up,” Vox chuckled, tapping the side of his screen in an exaggerated mime of shaking out some dust. “I thought I just heard you say you wanted to seduce the number one porn star in Hell.” 

“We made a deal,” Alastor reminded him. “If you are unable to provide the service you so hastily promised we can sever our agreement right now if you wish.” 

The ground beneath them started to tremble ominously, a small fracture line appearing in the perfectly laid path. Vox felt a threatening rush of heat biting at his ankle. 

“No, I can do it,” he insisted, nervously lifting his feet away from the ground until it ceased its tremors. The crack closed up as before and the melody of bird song returned to his ears. “I can definitely help you seduce Angel,” he continued. “I had loads of partners when I was human. Hundreds. Men, women, you name it! If you want seduction 101 I’m your guy.” 

“Perfect!” Alastor beamed in delight and clapped his hands together, rising to stand. “We shall start immediately!” 

“Right now? Here?” Vox blinked. 

“I don’t see why not,” Alastor smiled. “It is a perfectly lovely location for romance and as you are currently the key holder to this slice of paradise we shall not be interrupted by anyone.” 

“Uh…” Vox scratched his arm, glancing around at the completely empty garden. Alastor had a point, no one was going to be fighting him for this territory anytime soon and it did make a decent backdrop. He just felt rather put on the spot. “Well, what do you want to know first?” He asked. 

“It seems to be the first stage of courting a beau is to secure their consent to a rendezvous in a mutually pleasing location,” Alastor pondered, tapping his chin and pacing in front of the bench. “How did you instigate the ritual with your last paramour?” 

Vox thought about it. He hadn’t ever actually asked out Valentino, it had all just sort of happened on the fly and before they knew it they had been sharing an apartment and trying not to kill each other every five minutes. Now they were living apart and the attempts at murder and social ruin were a little less frequent. "That’s… maybe not the best example,” he said eventually. “But when I was a human I asked this one dame out to a fancy restaurant in the city.” 

“And she said yes?” Alastor spun on his heels to look earnestly down at him where he sat.

“Look, what to do when they say yes or no is lesson two,” Vox informed him, side stepping the question like an artist. “We’re focusing on how to ask the question in the first place, ok?” 

“My apologies, do continue,” Alastor motioned encouragingly, resuming his pacing. 

“You live with him right?” Vox asked. “In that hotel thing? I guess all you have to do is find him when he’s on his own- that’s very important by the way, never ask anyone out in front of other people, trust me- and ask him to go to dinner with you.” 

“That’s… it?” Alastor looked sceptical, the crease of a frown forming between his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Vox nodded. “Actually, sometimes it’s better if you just, you know, tell them they’re going to dinner with you. It looks authoritative, very alpha. Just go up to him and be like-“ he clicked his fingers, making a gun sign with his hand “-babe, you’re going to dinner with me on Thursday, wear something classy.” 

“I understand,” Alastor looked the very model of an attentive student, taking in every word. “Then what?” 

“Just ask him out first, then we’ll deal with the details,” Vox said quickly. He had most definitely not thought that far ahead yet and knew for a fact he needed breathing room to put his thoughts in order about this crazy turn of events. “I need time to plan.” 

“Of course! One must not enter into these things half cocked!” Alastor agreed. “I shall bid you adieu and we shall reconvene when I have acquired the fair soul’s agreement.” 

“Not the words I’d used to describe Angel Dust, but ok, whatever,” Vox shrugged. “We can- …aaaand you’re gone. Great.” The disappearing act that Alastor could pull at will with his shadow entities was definitely a neat trick. He could have at least given warning, though. 

Breathing a sigh of relief tempered by apprehension, Vox leaned back on the bench, letting his back rest against the cool wood. What had he just agreed to? Once again he found himself looking down at the hand he’d shook with Alastor, turning it this way and that. What did the guy even want with Angel Dust? The spider demon was loud, crass, annoying and the complete antithesis of everything Alastor was. Every time the coarse porn star had his hands all over Valentino, begging for attention, it took every fibre of Vox’s being not to strangle him. Why would anyone want him around? If Vox had his way the pink airhead would be out of his life entirely. 

Oh. Wait a minute. 

Like a lightbulb coming to life, the benefit of the situation suddenly revealed itself to Vox. If Angel Dust had a boyfriend, a real honest to Satan boyfriend and not some paying client that he never saw again the morning after, then he wouldn’t be pawing at Valentino anymore.

Ever since Vox had the misfortune of meeting him he’d been trying to find a way to extract Angel Dust from his relationship and here the goddamn Radio Demon had handed him the solution on a silver platter. The absolutely hilarious thing was that he’d not even thought it was true when he’d offered it. He’d thought at the most it would repulse or distract Alastor enough for him to make his escape, but no, the big bad deer demon had a secret crush on the fluffy spider. He didn’t want to cannibalise him or fuck him, he wanted to _date_ him! A laugh bubbled out from his lips, breaking the tranquil peace of the garden. He clamped his hand over his mouth to stifle a full blown laughing fit. 

“I’m a genius,” he spluttered through his fingers, a wide grin splitting across his screen. 

o0o

"So did you get what you wanted?” Val asked Vox when the TV demon sauntered into his penthouse apartment looking like a cat who’d just scored all the cream in Cornwall. 

“You know what? I think I did,” Vox beamed, slipping off his jacket and hanging it up by the door. “Everything I wanted and then some, in fact.” 

“So I can have my Garden of Eden strip club like you promised?” The moth pimp purred, rising from where he was lounging on the sofa with a magazine and snaking his arms around Vox’s waist, pulling him in close. 

“Anything my baby wants, my baby gets,” Vox told him, bobbing up on his tip toes to reach up and give Valentino a long, lingering kiss. “You just might need to wait a day or two before I confirm everything is mine.” Angel Dust was so hungry for any kind of dick based attention that he’d probably profess his love for Alastor the second that the deer demon even looked at him. Their deal would be sealed within a couple of days, he was sure of it. This was looking like the easiest territory grab he’d ever attempted. No bloodshed required, just a bit of basic advice that every guy should have learnt before they graduated high school. Really it was a wonder everyone didn’t work things out over territory like this. 

“I don’t like waiting, Voxxy,” Val pouted, stroking the side of his screen and feeling the tingle of static against his fingertips. “You gonna get it for Daddy real fast?” 

“Ok, for the millionth time I cannot take you seriously when you talk about yourself like that in the third person,” Vox reminded him, easing himself away. “I want _you_ not your pimp daddy shit.” 

“Fine,” Val sighed dramatically. “Let’s be all vanilla and boring.” 

“Mm, ‘nilla is perfect if you do it right,” Vox informed him with a grin. “Besides… I didn’t say I don’t want to do the fun stuff…” He kissed him again, biting his lip playfully before pulling away. “Come on, take me to the bedroom and scramble my circuits. I feel like celebrating.” 

Valentino didn’t need telling twice. The Lust Overlord scooped Vox up into his arms, throwing him onto the bed like a doll the second they were in the bedroom. Straddling his hips he started to work at the buttons of his shirt, drawing the fabric away from his shoulder and swooping down to kiss and tease along his throat. The tingle on his tongue was a welcome sensation, a thrilling side effect of kissing the exposed wires along his lover’s neck. Vox was always saying he should cover them; that leaving them in the open like that could be dangerous, but a few minutes of Valentino’s skilled tongue sliding between them soon had any thoughts like that running far from his mind. 

“That’s the spot, baby,” he moaned softly as the moth moved down to his chest, dragging his nails down the smooth silicone contours of his body and coming to rest at his hips. Quickly releasing him from his pants, Val turned his attention southward, slicking up his fingers with spit and coaxing his legs wider. 

“This the spot too?” he asked breathily, grinning at the sharp intake of breath from Vox as he moved his fingers torturously slow, stretching and preparing him. “You look gorgeous like that,” he told him, starting to stroke at his length with one of his free hands. “My gorgeous demon, my Angel.” 

“Yeah I’m- the fuck?” Vox’s eyes flew up. He sat up with a jolt, hissing in pain as he roughly removed himself from his deep seat on Val’s fingers. “The fuck you just call me?” 

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Val frowned, confused why the heavy petting had suddenly had to stop with no warning. 

“You called me Angel!” Vox accused him. 

“No I didn’t! I called you _an_ angel!” Val denied. 

“Sweet Lucifer below, Val! That’s so not cool.” Vox grabbed his pants where they’d been discarded on the bed next to them, pulling them on with his underwear and wrestling himself back into his shirt. “I can’t fucking believe you sometimes.” 

“Come on, it was just a dumb slip of the tongue,” Val pleaded, hugging him from behind and starting to kiss his neck again. “It didn’t mean anything,” he whispered between kisses, tightening the hug possessively. 

“Well until you can control your tongue, it’s not coming anywhere near me,” Vox hissed, elbowing him sharply and storming across the room. “I’m going to the tower. Don’t follow me, your prints aren’t on the door anyway.” 

He slammed the door to the penthouse as hard as he could on the way out, burning with a new found resolve. 

He was going to get Angel falling head over heels in love with Alastor and out of his god damn relationship if it was the last thing he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the stage is set! Please review, your lovely words give me life. 
> 
> As always if you want to see bits of these chapters before they drop (or listen to me ramble about Hazbin/Helluva) my twitter is @graysongirl4


	3. Deer, you stink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite receiving the best dating advice in Hell, Alastor fails to procure the desired response from Angel Dust. Naturally, he returns to his eager tutor to find out just what went wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50 points if you can spot the "Full Monty" quote I sneaked in here.

The hotel was, predictably, quiet when Alastor made his way into the foyer. Charlie’s hopeless venture had still failed to bring any patrons other than Angel Dust to live at the hotel. Husk and Nifty hardly counted as pupils in her redemption mission and Alastor had made it very clear to them both that he did not foresee a future for either of them in which they would be ascending to Heaven. He would make very sure of that. When someone owed him a debt, they paid it. 

Just like this deal he had struck with Vox. With a goal in mind Alastor was single minded in his pursuit. No one had captured his attention like Angel Dust had since, well, ever. He had murdered countless individuals when he was alive, beautiful men and women that he had felt a fleeting need to possess. The shine dulled when the light disappeared from their eyes, however, and though they retained their beauty even in death the attraction died with them. Angel Dust was a beautiful, lively specimen, long dead but still with that spark about them, that strange sense of other that Alastor has spent his entire life searching for. If anything his death had made him more beautiful, lithe limbs and soft curves that Alastor felt an aching need to test and break only to bring him back again and repeat it all once more. 

It was maddening. 

This deal he had struck with Vox was surely the blessing he had been waiting for. Whilst Alastor considered himself a master of many talents- cooking, singing, performance, the magical arts- the notion of romance completely escaped him. Certainly, he could sing a tune about lost love or parrot the poetic words of one of the greats like Byron and Brontë but actually speaking from the heart was a language he was hopeless at. 

Vox had provided a wonderfully serendipitous means to an end. Enlisting the help of a seasoned seducer was sure to help him in his cause and all it had cost him was a piece of territory that he would simply take for himself once more when all this was over. Vox had already proven that he had no real affinity for the area so reclaiming his right would be a walk in the park- or garden, as it were. 

First, he had to set the wheels in motion. Vox had been very clear in his instructions he recalled, wishing he had taken some form of note taking with him so that he could have pressed him for more information. No matter, he would simply do that at their next meeting. Now, to business. 

Finding Angel Dust was incredibly easy, even with the hotel being as vast as it was. Angel had only three main haunts in the building; his bedroom- which Alastor had no interest in seeing; the bar area where he could often be found propping up the bar with a drink and the sitting room that Charlie endearingly referred to as the ‘family room’. It was too early in the day even for Angel to be drinking, and it was unlikely that he was still abed so that just left his spot on the sofa rotting his brain with television.

He struck gold the moment he walked through the door.

Angel was sprawled out on the couch, long legs draped over one of the arms clad in rainbow patterned knee socks. He was idly flipping through his phone as he half watched a cartoon of some sort on the screen. His mismatched eyes glanced up at the sound of Alastor’s footsteps, a wide toothy grin breaking out onto his face. 

“S’up, Smiles?” he greeted. “Ya want the remote or somethin’? I know how much ya love the idiot box.” 

“Absolutely not,” Alastor frowned. His microphone manifested in his hand and he used the tip to nudge Angel’s feet from the sofa. “Sit up properly, you’ll do your back a terrible disservice sitting like that.” 

“Nah, it’s alright,” Angel smirked, waggling his tongue. “I can bend into all sorts of different shapes.” He rolled onto his stomach, chin propped up on his hands. “Wanna see, Deer Daddy?”

Alastor twitched at the endearment, his ear flicking in irritation. Oh, how he would so enjoy an opportunity to silence that petulant mouth. He righted his staff on the floor, the sound ringing out sharply. What was it Vox had said? Tell, don’t ask. He straightened his stance, hands gripping either side of the staff. “Babe,” he said firmly. “I’m taking you to dinner on Thursday. Wear something classy.” 

Without missing a beat Angel shrugged his shoulders. “Sure, whatever ya want. 500 smackeroos gets ya dinner and a real nice dessert if ya catch my drift.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, sticking his tongue out and propping himself up higher on the arm of the sofa. “Can’t promise ‘classy’ but I can promise ya a good time.” 

“No, you misunderstand me,” Alastor told him, taking a step back from the sofa as Angel Dust leaned further forward, the fur of his chest quite on show thanks to the low cut top he was wearing. “I am not presuming to solicit your professional services.” 

“Huh?” Angel Dust blinked in surprise, his chin slipping from where his hands rested under it. He righted himself and stood up from the sofa, jutting out his hip as he eyed Alastor up and down with a look nothing short of critical. “Busta, if yer tryin’ to do what I think ya are then ya gotta ask me a damn sight nicer than that.” 

“Sorry?”  
“Yeah, that’s a start,” Angel smirked, sashaying past the deer demon and pausing in the door way to glance over his shoulder at him. “Nice try, cutie, 10 outta 10 for effort but hella shaky on the delivery.” He blew him a kiss. “I’ll give ya a free pass for a second try and ya can lay on some of that charm ya so famous for.” 

He left Alastor standing stunned in the family room by himself, trying to fathom out what exactly he’d done wrong. 

o0o

Valentino had sent flowers. 

Vox had barely walked through the door to his basement complex when the receptionist rang down to him to inform him there’d been a delivery for him. He instructed her to send it down in the elevator and had to admit that when the beautifully arranged bouquet of red roses arrived he was impressed. Val must have ordered those the second he’d left the apartment for them to get here so quickly. Say what you want about Hell but you could get door to door delivery sinfully fast if you had the right cash.

Still, two dozen red roses and a note card with an insincere apology wasn’t going to cut it this time. He was going to wait at least four hours before he called Val and made nice with him. He had some self-respect after all. 

Dropping the roses into the trash he sat down at his desk and fired up his HEXBox. Shooting a few digital hookers through the head with an AK47 would make him feel much better. It always did. Leaning forward in his chair he gripped the controller in his hands and focused all his anger on the screen, swapping out guns for more extravagant weapons as he made his way through the creepily accurate rendition of Pentagram City. 

“Die, bitch!” He cackled as he sent a stream of bullets ripping through one of the characters before clicking to rifle through her pockets. “Urgh, come on why do you only have 50 bucks on you?” 

“That’s hardly very sporting of you, she’s barely dressed.”

It took a lot make Vox scream out loud, but the noise he made when Alastor appeared speaking an inch from his ear could probably be heard across all the nine circles. 

The controller flew from his hand and clattered onto the floor, the case smashing into pieces on impact. 

“What the fuck?” He screeched, leaping out of his chair and raising his fists in self-defence. Electricity crackled around him, the screens that surrounded the entirety of the room lighting up with a harsh white glow. “How did you- what the-… fuck!” 

“Oh no, your pixelated man appears to have died,” Alastor commented, scrutinising the image on the screen. 

“How did you get in here?” Vox demanded, still not lowering his fists. “You need a retinal scan, a finger print scan and a 16 digit code to even get in through the front door!” 

“Hm? Fascinating. That’s all well and good, but I didn’t use the front door did I?” Alastor pointed out calmly, turning the seat that Vox had just been seated in and making himself at home. “But thank you for the information.” 

“Answer the damn question,” Vox insisted. “Have you been able to do that the whole time?” 

“Yes.” The calm smile on Alastor’s face didn’t waver in the slightest, even as Vox let out another angry scream and caused several of the monitors to pop and crackle with an overload of static. “If it is of any comfort to you I have simply never felt the need to enter your technological domain. One shudders to think what I could catch you in the middle of if I waltzed in unannounced.”

“Then why now?” Vox demanded, his nerves settling a little now that Alastor appeared to not be interested in attacking him. The screens returned to normal and the electrical buzz that had been slowly filling the room died back down to normal levels of background noise. “Most people call first.” 

“You know, in the heat of the moment I did not consider that,” Alastor mused. “Ah well, hindsight is 20/20 as they say. Anyway, moving along!” He crossed one ankle over his leg and steepled his fingers. “Your advice was, how shall I put this, less than helpful in gaining the desired result.” 

“He said no?” Vox cocked his head. 

“Precisely,” Alastor nodded. “You informed me it was fail safe and a method that you yourself had employed many times with success. I fail to understand where I went wrong.” 

“You must not have said it right,” Vox shrugged. “Not my fault. Go away now.” 

“No thank you,” The reds of Alastor’s eyes darkened, widening to radio dials as a chill descended on the room. “You know what happens if your help fails to deliver results…”

“Ok, ok! Calm down, already.” Vox raised his hands in a peace gesture. “What exactly did he say?” 

Alastor repeated Angel’s words back, his eyes slowly returning to normal but his aura still radiating threats of violence should Vox not respond how he wished to hear.

“Well, that’s not a no, is it?” Vox said in what he hoped was an encouraging tone of voice. “Just be more charming next time.” 

Alastor rose from his stolen throne, pacing the complex and humming to himself as he thought. Vox took this as an opportunity to create some distance between him and the antlered home invader, switching off his console and resting his back against the desk that dominated most of the far wall. 

He watched as the demon halted by the trash can where he’d thrown the roses away earlier, plucking one of the blooms free and holding it up to sniff delicately. “Beautiful,” he commented with a gentle smile. “Why ever did you dispose of such a gift?” 

“Cos’ guys only buy flowers when they’ve fucked up,” Vox told him bitterly, coming over to him and pushing the rest of the roses down into the trash, bending the stems beyond repair and crushing the flowers. 

“Flowers are an appropriate method of apology?” Alastor asked with interest, still holding onto the rose he had liberated from Vox’s destruction. 

“Well yeah, didn’t your father ever get your mother flowers when he’d done something wrong?” Vox chuckled grimly. 

“My father was… absent,” Alastor said after a slight pause. “No matter, I feel this will be the perfect gift for my intended if what you say is correct.” He glanced at the TV demon, a flicker of darkness clouding his eyes. “It is correct, yes?” 

“Yes,” Vox insisted, rolling his eyes this time rather than taking it as a serious threat. “At least in my experience anyway. Valentino sends me flowers all the time.” 

“Fabulous,” Alastor beamed in delight. “I shall leave you to your computerized prostitutes and bid you adieu. I have an amour to entice.” 

“Wait,” Vox daringly reached out and held his arm as the shadows began to swirl around his feet. “You’re doing it dressed like that?” 

The shadows melted away and Alastor jerked his arm away in discomfort, looking down at his outfit to appraise it. “Yes? What is the problem with how I am dressed? I always dress like this.” 

“Yeah that’s the problem,” Vox told him, taking a step back to take in the sight of the tattered edges of Alastor’s coat and the suspicious stains around the bottom of his pants. “You can’t ask someone on a date dressed like that.” 

“What else am I supposed to wear?” Alastor’s frown dropped a millimetre or two. 

“Something else, something cleaner,” Vox told him, frowning at the look that got him in reply. The radio demon almost looked uncomfortable. “Alastor? You do own other clothes, right?” 

“I fail to see why I should spend money on frivolous items such as clothing when I possess a perfectly functional set already,” Alastor replied primly. 

“That’s disgusting,” Vox told him bluntly. A thought occurred to him all of a sudden. “Take your gloves off.” 

“No.” 

“Take your gloves off,” Vox repeated. 

“There is really no-“ 

“Off!” Vox snapped, holding one hand out patiently until the radio breathed a sigh of exasperation. He placed the rose down nearby and slowly peeled his gloves off. Vox almost retched at the sight of his completely uncared for nails, wondering just how long the blood caked around his cuticles had been there. 

“You are going back to that hotel right this second and taking a bath,” He told him firmly. “For Satan’s sake scrub your nail beds and cut them shorter. No wonder he didn’t say yes, you look frickin’ homeless. Give me your coat.” 

“Excuse me?” Alastor snatched his gloves back and put them on, protectively folding his arms. 

“Give me your coat, I’m going to fix it,” Vox insisted, happy to see that Alastor complied with his wishes a lot faster this time. Clearly, he decided, the demon was coming around to his way of thinking and accepting that he knew best. 

“Where did you learn to sew?” Alastor asked once he’d handed the coat over. The media demon began to inspect the hemline of it, turning it inside out and looking at the lining. 

“Prison,” he replied matter-of-factly, not halting in his inspection in the slightest. “Yeah, I can fix this,” he nodded, looking back up. “Go on, go back to your hotel and get in the bath. Then give Angel that rose, tell him you’re sorry for being such a rude, disgusting pig and then tell him you’d really like to take him out.” 

“Do I have to use those exact words?” Alastor wrinkled his nose. 

“You’re smart, think of something,” Vox shrugged. “And wash and iron your clothes first too. Magic doesn’t count before you even think about suggesting that. Use soap. Like a normal person.” 

“Honestly, matters of the heart are a lot more complicated than I have been led to believe,” Alastor grouched, disappearing in the blink of an eye as a cloak of shadow surrounded him. 

“Yeah,” Vox chuckled. “You’re telling me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite bit of canon is that Alastor rarely bathes and has nails that are utterly gross. It tickles me no end when fanfics make him this suave, well dressed gent. Though, of course, that is much more pleasant to imagine! Stinky deer is getting a bath whether he likes it or not.


End file.
